


Day 23-Hot Wine and Marshmallows (RJD 25 Days of Richonne)

by charrrmed



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 05:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charrrmed/pseuds/charrrmed
Summary: As the Grimes family prepares for a big transition, a nightmare wakes Rick on Christmas Eve.





	Day 23-Hot Wine and Marshmallows (RJD 25 Days of Richonne)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! I'm back with my second fic for the Richonne Just Desserts 25 Days of Richonne Challenge. It's based on a picture, which you can see on the fic's ff.net profile. Be sure to check out the stories from the other authors from days past and the next two days! Thank you for reading (and reviewing) Christmas Songs, and I hope you like this one, too!

His phone in his hand, a somber Rick stepped out of the rental cabin and onto the roofed deck in time to see Michonne bend down to deposit something. He walked around the plush white couch to see what she was doing.

"Welcome," Michonne said as she turned to face him.

Rick smiled when he saw them: two glasses of piping hot red wine sitting on the raised stone fire pit. Hot wine was his Christmas Eve staple. He'd brought it to his first marriage and his second. This year, he'd told Michonne that she could make it. The drinks were each garnished with a slice of orange and two cinnamon sticks.

"Let's see if they taste like mine," he said.

"Did you tell me I could make it just so you could judge me?" Michonne asked as she draped her arms around his shoulders. She didn't care for an answer, so she planted a kiss on his lips.

"How was your nap?" she asked, flexing her fingers in her gloves to keep the mountain chill away.

"Horrible," Rick answered.

"Horrible," Michonne repeated with a small frown.

"Yeah, I had a horrible dream," he said as he turned for the couch. His eyes caught the big bowl of puffy marshmallows also sitting on the fire pit, along with the sticks they were going to use to roast them.

"I could've put the fire on for you," he said as he glanced at the burning logs.

"You could've, but what's the point of you teaching me if I don't put it to use?" Michonne asked as she joined him on the couch.

It had snowed the night before, not surprising, considering they were high in the Smoky Mountains. The wind had blown a lot of it onto the deck. They were regulars at the lodge, so despite the previously late hour, they'd called the main desk to request someone to shovel the snow around their cabin early this morning. The staff had been hard at work when they'd stepped out to go see what was new in Gatlinburg.

In the afternoon, they'd returned to cleared pathways all around the cabin. The small hills of snow all around made Michonne feel like she was in a winter wonderland.

And because they were well-paying regulars, the staff had decked out their lodge better than the others, in Michonne's opinion. Even Rick agreed after they'd visited some of their neighbors the first day, including the Rhees and the Fords.

Their cabin had not one but two Christmas trees, one just beyond the double doors that led to the living room behind them, and one right behind the left end of the couch. Each of the double doors was adorned with a big wreath. Inside, the cabin looked even more like their home at this time of year.

"I hope it snows again tonight," Rick said absently as he rubbed his boot over what was left of the shoveled substance on the ground. Switching his position, he stretched his body out on the couch and put his head on Michonne's lap.

"Rick-"

Before she could finish the reprimand, he lifted his dirty boots onto the back of the couch.

"Love," Michonne began patiently as she rubbed his head through his knit beanie, "The couch is white. That's not gonna help much."

"It's not like I was walkin' in mud," he groused, leaving his feet where they were. Getting back to the earlier topic, he said, "I had a nightmare about Carl. We were looking for him, and at first we were back home, in the neighborhood. We were looking, and my heart was racing, and you were frantic. Then, all of a sudden, we were in this sewer. It smelled somethin' awful. We reached the end of it, and that's where we found him. Andre and Judith found him first, somehow, but neither of them could talk. I could feel that they wanted to, but they couldn't. Couldn't even open their mouth. It made me feel like  _I_ was mute.

He was shot on the right side of his stomach," he said as he looked up at her, his chest tightening. "He was bleeding to death, and he was crying. Not hard, but...just these silent tears. He kept looking at me, and I knew he was dying, and so did he, but there was nothing I could do. I was staring at him, and we both knew he was going."

"Hey, hey," Michonne soothed as she rubbed his chest with her other hand. "It was a nightmare. He's not dying in some sewer. They're all warm and toasty with Morgan and Jenny in Miami."

"I called him before I got in the shower. He's having a great time with Duane."

He didn't sound like that fact made him feel any better.

"Oh, daddy," Michonne said as she rubbed his chest. "You're taking this trip hard, aren't you?"

"It's the first time we've been apart since Lori died. I mean, he went to San Diego with you all those years ago, but that was you. I was a little scared, especially since we weren't even together yet, but...this is worse."

"How are you gonna handle it when he goes off to college?" she asked worriedly.

"I don't know. Thank God for this gap year. This is all your fault, you know."

He was pouting in that way that she still found adorable, even after almost a decade together.

"You put seeing the world into his head, with all your stories about the places you've been."

"And our trips had nothing to do with it?" she asked amid an incredulous chuckle.

"We took most of those as a family," Rick replied without missing a beat.

Michonne pursed her lips. "So, I inspired our son to step out and see what's out there. Is that the worse thing I could've done?" she asked.

Rick thought about it. Then rolled his eyes. "No." Sighing, he said, "Honestly, I'm glad he's not a neurotic basket case. He deserves all of this."

"He wanted to go to Georgia Tech to stay close to Andre and Judith, but you pushed him to University of Miami."

"Because I could tell he was anxious about leaving," Rick explained. "I don't want him to hold himself back out of fear. He'll go there, and if he decides he wants to transfer to Georgia Tech after the first semester, then I won't be in his way."

Michonne laughed. "After the first semester? Jesus, Rick, not even the first year?"

Rick laughed. "Nah, he's made of tougher stuff than that. He'll be fine."

"You should tell him how you feel," Michonne encouraged.

"I don't wanna scare him."

"You won't. Just let him know that you'll miss him more than just a little bit."

Rick nodded. "You're not nervous at all? At all?" he asked, squinting up at her beautiful face.

"Of course I'm nervous. I think about him flying away from us to live in Florida for months on end, and I think about the heartbroken, angry nine-year old I met. I think about when he started smiling more often than not. God, I think about how there was a time when he was shorter than me. It makes me sad sometimes, but this is the beginning of his life, Rick, not the end."

"I know."

"It's an opportunity we both got, and now it's his turn."

"I know that, too," he said as he swung his legs down and sat up. He tossed his phone to the other end of the couch and reached for the glasses of wine. He barely felt the heat through his gloves, which told him that the wine was warm enough to drink.

He gave Michonne her glass. They toasted, and then she watched him take the first sip. He nodded in approval.

Michonne took her first sip and smacked her lips. "Doesn't taste like yours, does it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"It doesn't, but it's still good."

"It is, but it doesn't taste like  _yours_. Isn't that crazy? It's not like you use a special recipe for this, but it still doesn't taste like you made it."

"It's my magic touch," he said as he placed his glass down and proceeded to spear three marshmallows on their respective sticks for roasting. He handed her hers and sat closer to share her body heat. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, which got him a kiss on the lips.

"I was kind of in my head when I came out here, but don't think I didn't notice you looking like a snow bunny. I think we should bless the jacuzzi tonight."

"I am not having sex in a jacuzzi that other people have used. And probably had sex in."

"You say that now," Rick said confidently. "You once said you wouldn't have sex in the woods, where anybody could see us. I believe we'd been eating a rabbit."

"Oh my God," Michonne groaned as the memory hit her. "I forgot all about that rabbit. I can't believe you got me to eat rabbit  _fresh_ from the wild. Jesus. And why you bringin' up old shit?"

"Cause it was good shit," he answered. Truthfully, he didn't remember specifics of how 'good' the sex had been. It had happened on a camping ground when they'd just been friends with benefits. He has convinced her to have sex in a lot more places since then, and vice versa, so the details of that particular instance were blurry, but sex with Michonne was always good, so he had no doubt that it had been  _good shit_.

He also had no doubt that he'd be getting it in that jacuzzi tonight. He just had to seduce her into it.

Starting now.

**The End**


End file.
